


we have been heaven blessed

by northerndownpout



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Kid Fic, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:43:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northerndownpout/pseuds/northerndownpout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has this habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we have been heaven blessed

**Author's Note:**

> for emily who is desperate for kid fic and who am i to deny her anything  
> not sure this is what you were looking for, but hopefully it's something

It’s only been a few months and the lack of routine still messes with Louis’ head. He’s used to being told what to do, where to go, when to do it. Years of being directed leave him feeling a little lost when he can sleep in late, and more often than not Harry finds him wandering the house without purpose.

Of course, that was before Olivia and Nico.

From the first moment he laid eyes on their curly, brown haired heads he’s felt the most intense, fierce purpose that’s ever existed. It’s almost like he’s burning with it sometimes, the overwhelming need to have his eyes on them, make sure they’re alright, that they’re breathing, sleeping, eating, smiling, laughing, shitting, anything that means he’s doing okay with them.

He can tell Harry thinks it’s half hilarious half beautiful, by that odd, lopsided smile he gets. Oh, and the tears. He’s never met a more misty-eyed man.

“There you are.”

It’s Louis who rounds the corner and sees Harry standing in the kitchen, Olivia cradled in his arms, but Harry has a habit of being the one to find him, even when he doesn’t know he’s lost.

“Isn’t it bedtime?” Louis asks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The slight disapproving tone he tries for is useless due to the tilt of his lips at the sight of half of his family.

Harry had wrangled the twins into matching outfits that morning, donning a similar striped shirt and bowtie while Louis had peered over his tea and watched the horror unfold. Unfortunately, since then there have been a few mishaps involving an upset stomach (Nico’s) and curious, grabby hands (Olivia’s.) Harry seems unbothered, at least, by the stains splattered across his own shirt, focused on cleaning up their daughter instead.

“It’s bath time.” Harry corrects, with a shake of his head that causes a few loose strands of hair to fall from his already sloppy bun, wayward waves framing his temples. Olivia lifts her arm as if to tug one, but can’t quite reach, and wiggles a little in Harry’s hold instead.

“Want to help?” Harry prods further. Apparently Louis can’t take a hint. Nothing new.

Louis kisses Harry’s cheek and Olivia’s forehead as he moves past them to the sink, testing the water to get it to the right temperature. He’s always been so careless, always gone through life without considering many consequences.

The twins changed all that.

Harry changed all that.

Truth be told, he didn’t imagine a husband and two precious babies by thirty-four, but he’s here nonetheless, and he wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

Olivia is squirmy, restless, like her dad, but the warm water settles her. As Louis gently washes her, Harry hums under his breath, smooth melodies that Louis is all too used to hearing. He remembers when he would get annoyed by Harry’s slow, deep murmurs, when he was tired and just didn’t care about what kind of song he felt like trying out now.

Each of those moments seems almost wasted now, as if Louis just squandered the years he could have been holding as close as right now.

Harry nudges him with his elbow, taking the cloth from him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis murmurs, “why?”

“You seem sad.”

Louis looks up at him, but Harry isn’t watching him, eyes on Olivia, a soft smile gracing his lips as she coos out nonsensical sounds.

“Why would I be sad?” Louis asks quietly, careful.

“I don’t know.” Harry sighs a little, and his smile falls slightly. No, Louis can’t have that, can’t have him frowning, or upset. “You seem off lately, but you’re not saying anything, so. I haven’t asked. Assumed you don’t want me to know, whatever it is.”

“Harry,” Louis stops him quickly, “no, of course not. Nothing is wrong.”

He doesn’t look like he believes him, lifting Olivia out of the water so the only sound in the room for a few moments in the quiet sloshing of water in the sink. “Are you…unhappy?”

Louis blinks up at him, shaking his head. “No, I’m not unhappy. Why would you ask me that? Are you unhappy?”

Harry tsks. “Obviously not.”

“Well, me either.” It’s a tad on the defensive side, Louis can admit that, but he’s not unhappy, there’s no possible way he could be. Not when he has a wonderful husband and beautiful children and a perfect home. Everything has lined up immaculately for him. He’s not unhappy.

Harry stays quiet this time, not smiling, but not frowning either, drying Olivia before putting her into little blue fleecy pajamas with flying pigs on them. She kicks her feet around while Harry works, long fingers and hands having no trouble at all.

“Harry.” Louis says softly. “Look at me?”

A beat later his green eyes land on his face, expectant. “Well?”

“I just-” Louis looks down at Olivia, brushing a light fingertip over her round cheeks, and she garbles happily up at him. “You’re so good at this.”

“At what?”

“This. Them.” Louis sighs. “What if I’m not cut out for it?”

“Oh, Lou.” Harry murmurs.

Louis doesn’t close his eyes when Harry’s warm hand cups his cheek. It would be too dramatic to blink back the sting in his eyes, or push down the ache in his chest, so he settles for keeping his focus on their daughter, on her tiny fingers prodding at his callused palm.

“Lou.” Harry says again. “Love, you’re cut out for it. For all of it. I’ve never met someone so ready for this. And even if you’re not-”

Louis’s head jerks up toward him, ready to protest, but Harry is shushing him again.

“Which you are, honestly, do you ever listen? Louis, you’re a wonderful father.”

Louis smiles wryly. “Not doing too good on the husband front, am I?”

Harry purses his lips. “Shut up for two seconds, honestly. Listen to me.”

He waits until he’s sure Louis is listening, until he nods a little and his gaze shifts back to the baby.

“I know you’re freaking out. You always do that, think someone could do a better job than you, that you’re not good enough. It’s bullshit, is what it is, love.”

Louis frowns, tsking, and covers Olivia’s ears. He can practically hear the eyeroll he’s listening so hard, honestly.

Harry drops his hand from Louis’ face and picks up Olivia, motioning for Louis to follow him. They walk in silence from the kitchen, up the stairs, into the nursery, where Harry tucks their little girl into her crib, and stands back to look at the two of them, Nico having been fast asleep for some time.

“Look at our babies, Louis.” Harry whispers, reaching out to lace their fingers together.

Louis holds Harry’s arm, squeezing his hand, and rests his head on his shoulder as he looks down into the matching cribs, gaze running over their matching faces, with their matching hair and clothes and tiny, tiny fists.

“I know you have it in you. They do, too.”

Louis huffs out a quiet laugh, brushing his finger against Nico’s puffy cheek.

“Do you believe us?” Harry asks softly, and the genuine concern is so clear in his voice that Louis can’t help but look up at him and nod.

“I believe you.”

Harry has this habit of finding him when he didn’t even know he was lost.


End file.
